Housefly
Now that this housefly
has finished wringing its hands
over the past - what?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Execution before judgment
The fly wringing its hands on the plate -
is it anticipation, or cleanliness, or shame?
Too late..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Four Until Late
By robert johnson
From four until late I was wringing my hands and crying.
From four until late I was wringing my hands and crying.
I believe to my soul that your daddys gulfport bound.
From four until late, she made me a no good barroom clown.
From four until late, she made me a no good barroom clown.
You know she wont do nothing but tear a good mans reputation down.
A woman is like a dresser, some man always running through its drawers.
A woman is like a dresser, some man always running through its drawers.
She cause so many men to wear an apron overall.
When I leave this town I will bid you fare farewell.
When I leave this town I will bid you fare farewell.
And when I return again, youll have a great long story to tell.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Until Late
By robert johnson
From four until late I was wringing my hands and crying.
From four until late I was wringing my hands and crying.
I believe to my soul that your daddys gulfport bound.
From four until late, she made me a no good barroom clown.
From four until late, she made me a no good barroom clown.
You know she wont do nothing but tear a good mans reputation down.
A woman is like a dresser, some man always running through its drawers.
A woman is like a dresser, some man always running through its drawers.
She cause so many men to wear an apron overall.
When I leave this town I will bid you fare farewell.
When I leave this town I will bid you fare farewell.
And when I return again, youll have a great long story to tell.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Until Late
by Robert Johnson
From four until late I was wringing my hands and crying.
From four until late I was wringing my hands and crying.
I believe to my soul that your daddy's Gulfport bound.
From four until late, she made me a no good barroom clown.
From four until late, she made me a no good barroom clown.
You know she won't do nothing but tear a good man's reputation down.
A woman is like a dresser, some man always running through its drawers.
A woman is like a dresser, some man always running through its drawers.
She cause so many men to wear an apron overall.
When I leave this town I will bid you fair farewell.
When I leave this town I will bid you fair farewell.
And when I return again, you'll have a great long story to tell
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Teachers Are Afraid Of The Pupils
Theres too many people
Planning your downfall
When your spirits on trial
These nights can be frightening
Sleep transports sadness
To some other mid-brain
And somebody here
Will not be here next year
So you stand by the board
Full of fear and intention
And, if you think that theyre listening
Well, youve got to be joking
Oh, you understand change
And you think its essential
But when your profession
Is humiliation
Say the wrong word to our children ...
Well have you, oh yes, well have you
Lay a hand on our children
And its never too late to have you
Mucus on your collar
A nail up through the staff chair
A blade in your soap
And you cry into your pillow
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
Say the wrong word to our children ...
Well have you, oh yes, well have you
Lay a hand on our children
And its never too late to have you
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
Im very glad the spring has come
The sun shines out so bright
All the birds that are on the trees
Are singing for delight
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are My Poems Finished/ And I Finished With Them?
ARE MY POEMS FINISHED/ AND I FINISHED WITH THEM?
Are my poems finished
And I finished with them?
Each day has a beauty of its own
Light, wind, trees, colors, flowers.
All I see
The cracks in the grey pavement before me.
The cool cool wind at my back
The prayer ahead.
Even this poem is not properly finished
And I a fool racing and rushing
Through another
Again and again and again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A person who is stung by a bee fears a big housefly.
An optimist is a fellow who believes a housefly is looking for a way to get out.
quote by George Jean Nathan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The programme has ended, something has finished, and he has a sense of something having finished its course, and then all of a sudden he turns away and this other thing has just finished its course, this other person.
quote by Atom Egoyan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mother Never Know
my mother never know
after my father past away
I walk to campus through Malioboro without shoes
(only with sandals) to Campus
I embarasment to meet my friend
Every day I learn at the library and finished the next step
Not yet finished for preparing the future
With my stomag empty
When I hungry I only eat gado-gado, cassave and a glass of water
For entering my mother dreams
To become civil service after finished its
Like what my father do
Who never have opportunity to have a house for their children
Because I never have to the heart to cut my my dreams
Although my heart restlessness
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remember Our Beloveds.
Our beloved ones finished their time here,
Learned their lessons and they were sincere
They will always live in our memories,
God, please love and bless them,
Because they finished their life studies.
Life is a school room where we face challenges,
Each of us have to face our own experiences.
The best is to forgive the past, be cheerful today,
Always hope in a better tomorrow
And your life will be a joyful play.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finished With Lies
Now Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
I should have my head examined
Theyll see when they look inside
I wont have to say a word
Ill stop thinking what I shouldnt be thinking
Ill make everyone believe me
Cant you see Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
Youll think its a lie
Couldnt we just put away the ancient history
Throw up our hands at the unsolved mysteries
Im going to have my head examined
Ill prove you were wrong about me
Move the needle telepathically
Ill turn everything around and confuse you
Talk faster and faster till I lose you
Ill fix it so you cant remember what was true
And therell be nothing to remind you
Starting now Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
Now Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
Lies, lies
Youll think its a lie
Youll think its a lie
Youll think its a lie
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of Rumi - 65 - The Housefly
So small,
such a tiny eye,
yet sees, has seen, so much
to be a housefly
in the house of the Lord,
a house without walls, without ceiling,
without floor?
I wonder.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hands Are Asking You....
it is the same thing
and will always be
the same thing, these hands
that smashed your breasts,
shall be the same hands,
that shall smash theirs
don't you think that
the earthly resources
for maximum benefit
must be shared? these same
hands
for example
don't you find them too
limited if they shall
be exclusively yours?
are you the same selfish
wife of Lot who
turned into salt
because she wants to
see those hands
of the past
misgivings?
look at your hands
how misshapen have they
become
because you never
shared them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man Or Machine
Auto, bus, walking and sweating dermis,
somehow on time I reach my office.
work needs to be finished on time so I sit infront of computer.
breakfast time, toast, butter and tea glass,
hurriedly I eat, unaware it may appear boorish and crass.
work needs to be finished on time so I sit infront of computer.
lunch time, dosa containing rice, dal and yeast,
the way I eat can put to shame any wild beast.
work needs to be finished on time so I sit infront of computer.
till evening, I am tired, drowsy and dozy
but I skip the plan to go outside to have some tea.
work needs to be finished on time so I sit infront of computer.
My head aches, my eye burns
but I continue work amidst yawns.
work needs to be finished on time so I sit infront of computer.
Just before logout, I work with great pace,
with time I contest, compete and race.
work needs to be finished on time so a computer sits infront of computer.
Copyright reserved by the author
poem by Md. Asadullah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What If I Do Not Have To Do Anything Anymore?
What if I do not have anything to do anymore?
What if I am finished?
I have written what I could write
I have gotten to where I can get
Not very far
But it was what I am capable of -
What if I am finished
And all I have to do is rest
And write small poems
Bad or good as they are
And not even these
For the rest of my life?
What if I can say to myself
I need not try anymore
Because I can do no more
And I am finished?
What if I am done
And can take relief from this
While still longing to do more
And dissatisfied with where I have not gotten?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of joys and pleasing pains
Of joys and pleasing pains I late went singing,
O joys with pains! O pains with joys consenting!
And little thought as then of now repenting;
But now think of my then sweet bitter stinging,
All day long I my hands, alas! go wringing,
The baleful notes of which, my sad tormenting,
Are ruth and moan, frights, sobs, and loud lamenting,
From hills and dales, in my dull ears still ringing.
poem by John Wilbye
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Sleepless Shore
With ink on her hands she wrote to me her truths
reading over her fingered letters
she gave onto my eyes her promises
and as her words echoed through me
its her hands I ached to kiss
its her fingertips I wished to feel along my face
I moved and I kept still to her image
writing back to her impatiently my inner-truths
my collapsing conditions without her I wrote
steady was the heart and mind I listened to
finding words that came easy to promise her
always and just enough to carry on past it all
whatever it was that came and left its mark
with gentle strokes I painted each letter each passion
laid and displayed carelessly and faithfully in her name
and in the pattern of my insanity, I spoke to her willfully
yours now and forever began each page
forever and a day ended each phrase and with it I reached for her
and in the tune and ballad of a memory I finished....
poem by KarlRomeo PierreLouis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Hymn To Love
I will confess
With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
That, let her lay
On me all day,
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.
I will not, I,
Now blubb'ring cry,
It, ah! too late repents me
That I did fall
To love at all--
Since love so much contents me.
No, no, I'll be
In fetters free;
While others they sit wringing
Their hands for pain,
I'll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.
With flowers and wine,
And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee;
Which done, no more
I'll come before
Thee and thine altars empty.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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